at all satisfied with the concluding lines of that domestic ode from which I have already quoted the commencement: "Though in voice and shape they be Thou surpassest, happier far, Far beyond the date of man. Wretched man whose hours are spent, In repining discontent, Lives not, aged though he be, Half a span compared with thee." Of all misnomers of which English translators of Greek or Latin have been guilty, (and they are not a few,) I know of none more disparaging and humiliating than that of rendering the name of the divine tettix or cicada by that of grasshopper! The insect thus denominated amongst us, we all know, is not only gawky in his appearance and groveling in his pursuits, but, as for music, in which the cicada revels, he is utterly devoid both of taste and tune. He is really not able to emit any voice whatever from any part of his body; and his whole sense of hearing, as I have been told by entomologists, is secreted somewhere in his stuck up thighs, acute enough merely to enable him to discern noises approaching him from behind; so that with a sudden jerk of these his auditory, members he can fling himself out of their danger; but of uttering or appreciating melodies he has no idea. Instead of soaring aloft among the tree tops, his highest efforts can throw him only on the topmost rails of fences. To think of denoting by such a name the distinguished Athenian vocalist! Yet the English translators of Greek and Latin authors seldom bestow on him any other appellation. Of course, in the ode above extracted from, Cowper, among the tuneful grasshoppers mentioned, means to include our little Attic warbler. Not to dwell, however, on the indiguity inflicted on him, in being thus miscalled, the classical translator of this ode, as well as its original composer, was certainly not ignorant of the Grecian legends respecting him. His song on earth, we admit, continues but for a summer; yet should not these two learned poets, to have done our client justice, made at least some allusion to the many happy thousand years he thereafter spends, in his promoted, improved condition, within. the gardens of the Pierides? The cricket, on the other hand, is topical and mortal. Ever merry and untiring he may serenade, night after night, for years, the successive members of the same household; but his song at length must come to an end. Should he even escape all the many casualities to which he is liable, as the scorching of coals, the falling of tongs, or the pouncing of cats upon him, whenever he may venture forth from his salubrious retreat, still his life is not immortal. Even should it be prolonged far beyond the date of man's, it must sometime be brought to a close; if not sooner, at any rate "amid the wreck of matter and the crush" of the falling in of the jambs of his fire place. These Lares must perish ultimately with the downfall of their chimney corners. Both the cicada and cricket are to be met with in the United States; but while admiring them for their musical abilities and literary associations we are not disposed to adopt either of them for our national serenader. With Bryant we think it highly improper to call up, amid these virgin solitudes and twittering forests, "the faded fancies of an elder world." To be heard in our trees are enough of musical insects, of equal voices to the cicada's and yet more American and patriotic in their habits and feelings; from which, I have no doubt, in due time, our poets will select their appropriate favorite. Still, in the mean time, I trust I shall not be deemed too officious when I would recommend to their favorable consideration, lest unhappily his merits may be overlooked by them, as a suitable candidate for this high distinction, the modest, shrinking, unpretending, green-coated. minstrel called the Katydid. While his notes are somewhat similar and certainly equal in tune, at any rate to my ear, to those of the ancient cicada, he is yet distinguished from the latter by some striking characteristics and differences of his own; all of which qualify him admirably for this selection. In argument he is fully as stiff as was the ancient disputant. The speeches of the old men of Troy reminded Homer of the chirpings of the cicada, and in a like manner, but in an inverted order, the song also of the katydid reminded Thomas Haynes Bayly of the speeches of old men : "Thou mind'st me of some gentle folks, old gentle folks are they, Thou say'st an undisputed thing in such a solemn way.' This shows that their voices are somewhat akin. VOL. III.NO. V. From the 28* similarity too of their names which were formed, no doubt, at first from the respective sounds of their voices, we may infer the same thing: Cicada, Katydid, Tettiges. On the other hand, between them are appropriate national differences. The ancient Greeks were wholly eastern in their feelings and connections, almost worshippers of the dawn and devoted to their present enjoyments. The cicada, in unison with them, sipped the dew of the morning, and afterwards basked and sang in "the liquid noon," of day, unmindful of to-morrow. We Americans, on the other hand, are altogether western in our habits and associa tions. While enjoying sufficiently the present we still turn our eyes longingly towards the setting sun. We are more disposed, or at any rate we should be, by our religion to cast our hopes into the future, and contemplate with the eye of faith the brighter realities of another world. The katydid, in sympathy with us, while sufficiently cheerful, is yet more thoughtful in his habits; and he never commences singing until the evening twilight, nor does he tire in his notes until he perceives breaking forth the incipient streaks of a happier dawn. Again, while the voice of the cicada is heard in the Spring and throughout the heat of Summer, the katydid begins not till the evenings are becoming cool again, and he continues his strain till cut off by the frosts of Autumn. He belongs to a later and cooler era in the world's history. The ancient Athenians, it is well known, wore golden images of the cicada, as emblems and ornaments, in their braids of hair knotted on the crowns of their heads. We would, by no means, recommend our countrymen in general to adopt a similar fashion; but would it not be highly proper, when our Government will have appointed a poet laureate, that, half hid among the leaves of his laurels, should be seen lurking every here and there the golden image of a katydid? Mercersburg, Pa. W. M. N. THE NATURE OF THE REFORMATION AND ITS PREPARATION. [Translated from the General Introduction of "Reformatoren vor der Reformation" by Dr. Ullmann.] BEFORE entering into an account of some of the more impor tant characters of the fifteenth century whose opinions and conduct tended to produce the Reformation, it is necessary first of all to come to a right understanding of the nature of the Refor mation itself. For such an understanding is by no means a matter of indifference, because the conception we may have of it exerts an influence upon its historical representation; nor is it by any means a superfluous task, because, in regard to this very point, have been circulated many erroneous opinions as confused in theory as they are pernicious in practise. Both among the enemies of the Reformation and such of its friends whose judgments have been warped by interest in its favor, the opinion is very generally current that the essence of this great religious movement did not consist in a firm adhesion to positive truth, but in a firm opposition to existing errors and abuses. Hence the notion that, inasmuch as errors and abuses exist in every age and place, a reformation may be set in motion at any time and place, as the caprice of men may dictate. It must be borne in mind, however, as a truth of prime importance, that that which deserves the name of Reformation cannot be manufactured or invented by man, and that which can be thus fabricated, merits not this great name. In the highest sense of the term a Reformation is always the last result of powerful tendencies previously at work in the course of history, the vigorous outburst of a spiritual process which displays its energetic presence in the movements of centuries. It is the last result of a pressing necessity which lays hold on the deepest wants of an age and attaches every thing to its course with irresistible power;-a necessity which, though it allows room for the free play of personal action and manifests its nature through the agency of representative men, roots itself in the fertile soil of a general mind which permeates the structure of the social system and struggles to expose its desires and thoughts. As a Reformation cannot spring forth full-grown from the brain of a single man, so, too, this common aspiration after it cannot be excited by the action of the self-willed enthusiast, it is the offspring of a violent hungering after spiritual manna, grows in strength as spiritual famine sharpens the appetite for the food of spiritual life, and comes to maturity by the force of its own internal en. ergy. In the nature of such a continuous spiritual process will be lodged an animating principle, a positive substance, for something merely negative, as.scepticism, the rejection of an existing order or mere opposition to it, cannot of itself unite men and put them at variance for centuries. Neither in the physical nor in the moral world, is it possible for anything to assume an organic and permanent form unless there be at hand a germ full of living powers which has in it potentially, in a latent form, that which comes to view when it is fully matured. This germ, too, always contains a positive energy, inasmuch as it first unfolds its own peculiar character and then, in order to gain full scope for uninterrupted growth, comes into collision with that which is alien to it and clears away every element which might check its progress. This general law we also observe in every occurrence which, in the sphere of religion, may be justly and pertinently called a Reformation. A Reformation is reconstruction, a restoration of life. In this definition, however, are included three essential items. In the first place, it is a return to something already given to man, to some original fact. For the Reformation, which must be distinguished from the establishment of religion and the founding of the primitive Church, does not design to call into being something absolutely new and previously unknown, but aims at the renovation of something already established. It confines its operations, then, within the bounds of a given historical domain and, in the moment of encroachment upon territory lying beyond, loses its character altogether. In the second place, it is not merely a return to the original element of christianity, an acknowedgement of it and an earnest aspiration after it, but above all, a hearty, energetic restoration of it and a successful reduction to practical life of that which is thus confessed to be genuine in the christian system. Herein, particularly, consists its practical, positive nature. It is a great historical fact which, as it rests upon a given basis clearly apprehended and confessed by the general eonsciousness, in turn lays the foundation for a fresh, more perfect growth of the religious spirit. Finally, the nature of the Reformation requires that it should combat the false and abolish the obsolete and that the positive element should assume an offensive attitude. For the very fact that it is to effect the revival of an original power implies that this last has been disfigured and adulterated and that the perversions of it must be rectified. Moreover, in order to secure ample opportunities for the workings of its renewing pow |